Sitting under a Wonderful Tree

I remember after my father's series of strokes, he was presented with a well-constructed physical therapy regimen. But even with our constant encouragement, he would often only half-heartedly attempt any of the rehabilitation exercises. Although we had all hoped he would have tried harder, there was little any of us could do. The superficial pretense that floated among us was, that he was going to get better, but honestly in my heart-of-hearts, I knew he wouldn't. It certainly wasn't because of the physical impossibility of it all, but rather because of his own personal conviction and his essential and unfettered right to choose how his life would go.

As much as we had hoped, and as much as it involved our own personal wishes, I do know it would have been wrong to force dad or even lay out any set of conditions that made it difficult for him to choose how to live. Yeah, we could have forcibly drawn his path for him and he might have lived longer, but without his heart and accord, it would have been such an empty thing and it certainly would hardly have been a 'victory'.